


all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

by SemperAeternumQue



Series: Never Coming Home [1]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: <- both of them show up but only briefly, Addiction, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Cherri Cola Has Issues, Gen, Hospitals, Mental Breakdown, Past Character Death, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, brief mentions of needles, but im tagging this as 'chose not to use' because it's so dark, but really they are, cherri cola and newsagogo are basically adoptive siblings, cherri cola centric, dr. death defying - Freeform, like legally and biologically they're not siblings, newsie uses 'fucker' as a term of affection, no beta we die like the fab four, none of the archive warnings seem like they apply, oh god what have I done, show pony - Freeform, so much swearing, the phoenix witch is unhelpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25153303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemperAeternumQue/pseuds/SemperAeternumQue
Summary: Cherri Cola has seen too much to want to survive this world. Luckily for him, his family wants him to live, and so do a snarky bird deity and a trio of teenagers.Aka the story of how Cherri Cola met the Fabulous Four before there were even four of them, and learned a few valuable lessons along the way.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola & NewsAGoGo
Series: Never Coming Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865842
Comments: 15
Kudos: 20





	all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

**Author's Note:**

> GOOD MORNING FUCKERS
> 
> DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU WILL BE TRIGGERED OR UPSET BY:  
> Suicidal thoughts, a suicide attempt, hospitals, blood, flashbacks, self-harm, injury, mentions of addiction, or (very brief) mentions of needles.
> 
> Okay now that's out of the way, welcome to a literal dumpster fire of a fic. Please do not ask why the fuck I wrote this or if I'm okay. Cherri Cola sure as hell isn't, and that's literally what this is all about. Have fun, good luck, please please do not read this if you'll be triggered or uncomfortable because I want you all to stay safe and look after yourselves, okay?

Cherri Cola stared at the door of the radio station, hyperaware of the sunlight that filtered through the cracks even as he tuned out the rest of the world, slumped on the floor of the station. Darkness, it was always darkness. He was always trapped in the dark somehow. But the sunlight was worse. Sunlight was worse. 

He didn’t know who or what he was trying to convince as his nails sunk into his arms. It felt like suffocating; the darkness was endless and filled with thorns that kept him in. The memories never left and the deeds he had done could never be paid for. Not if he lived a hundred years or a thousand. He didn’t deserve to live that long anyways.

He stared at the door, the faint beams of sunlight filtering around the edges. Maybe he should get up and walk out that door. Let the sunlight take him, see how long it took him to die in the desert heat. Maybe he didn’t deserve to live at all.

 _No. You promised D you wouldn’t._ He ranked his nails down his arms, digging deeply enough to leave welts. _You. Promised._ A promise was a promise. He couldn’t leave Dr. Death Defying. He couldn’t leave NewsAGoGo.

Cherri didn’t realize how deeply he had been digging his nails until the scratches on his wrists started to bleed. Blood. It always came back to blood, didn’t it? Blood of someone he had called sister, pooling around her as he sobbed. Blood of his friends, lying too still on the battlefield and in the sand and on beds in the hospital in Zone 2. Blood of the dracs he had killed, splattered all over him. His own blood, running down his forearms and coating his hands just like the blood of all the innocents who fell to his ray gun.

Suddenly filled with a new surge of energy, he climbed to his feet. Almost mechanically, he went through the motions of putting the poem he had been working on before this all away, knowing how much it bothered D when he left his poetry everywhere. It took longer than it normally would have, his movements slowed by the pain on his wrists and his general lethargy, but it felt like only a second before everything was neatly stowed away.

Cherri Cola looked at the door, squared his shoulders, and walked out into the light.

He walked. And walked. And walked and walked. (And walked.) To his surprise, the sunlight didn’t promise relief like it had always seemed to. All it promised was a harsh death.

Not that Cherri minded that much either. 

He lost track of the hours, lost track of the days after far too little. There was no change in the landscape, not once he got far enough that the radio station was out of sight. The sunlight never seemed to let up, only briefly pausing while he slept. Summertime was the worst time of the year in the desert, it was universally agreed, but the only difference it made to him was more hours of daylight. More scorching sun as his throat grew dry and the desert started to warp around him. _Heatstroke_ , he had the capacity to think still, even as he staggered and fell. _Well, this is the end._

He wondered if the Phoenix Witch would come to claim him. Probably not, unless someone put his mask in the mailbox. He knew Newsie knew where it was; she was the only one who knew where his mask and ray gun were stashed. Newsie. His mind could conjure up all too vividly the image of his friend holding the pink mask in her hands, placing it in the mailbox with a whisper of a prayer. Would Newsie cry for him? A tiny, selfish part of him hoped so, hoped he would be missed, but the logical, ruthless side of his mind pointed out that he was just…Cola. Just an old wavehead who could never escape his own mind. A killer, a Ritalin rat, nothing but a worthless excuse for a sibling and a friend. That part hoped Newsie wouldn’t shed a tear. He didn’t deserve her grief. He had abandoned her.

He had abandoned her. Newsie had been almost more of a sister to Cherri than the one he had fought on the battlefields of the Analog Wars, and he had abandoned her. He had left her just like his older sibling had left him, all those many years ago. He was as bad- no, he was worse. His sister had never had a choice. Better Living Industries had taken her and turned her into a weapon, and it had never been her choice at all. It had always been his choice. It had been his choice to fight, to kill and maim and seek vengeance at all costs, his choice to turn to the relief of sunlight and run from what plagued him, and now his choice to leave behind the people he loved.

Cherri scrabbled at the sand, suddenly filled with renewed determination. He owned it to Newsie to try and get back alive, at the very least. He couldn’t just lay here. He had to go, go home to the people he had grown to love.

Getting up didn’t seem to be an option, the shifting sand throwing off what little balance he had and easily overwhelming his spent muscles. Crawling wasn’t any better, that took strength that he didn’t have any longer. So he reached out a hand and inched himself along, slowly and painfully rolling what he thought was back the way he came.

He hardly made it two feet before he collapsed fully again, unable to move himself another inch. _No! Get home, I have to get home-_

His eyes fell on taloned(??) feet as he lay in the scorching sand, and he looked up to see a crow-like figure almost crouched above him, tilting her head further than any human should be able to. _The Phoenix Witch?_

“Am- am I dead?” He croaked.

“Not yet.” His heart surged in hope, despite his earlier wishes, only to be squashed again by her next words. “You’re dying, though.”

“No! I can’t- I- Newsie.”

The Witch’s smile was not kind. “Why are you so upset, huh? Isn’t this what you wanted? Or,” she went on mercilessly, “have you realized there is a point to staying alive after all?”

Cherri shoved down his pride. “There’s a point and-“ he coughed, sand getting into his mouth. “-that point is my sister.”

“Your sister is dead, hon.” She let out a small cackle of amusement as he tried to speak again, finding it even harder than before. “I know who you meant, Cherri Cola. And I know exactly where she is right now, and what she’s doing.”

“What- what is she-“

“Looking for you, sugar. They all are. You’ve got the radio crew in a stir, as people say, all ‘cause you couldn’t blow your brains out like a normal person. Lucky for you though, and them, seeing as you’re not dead yet.”

“Well I’m not dying. Not-“ _cough_ “-not until I can see my sister again.”

“You’ll see one of your sisters if you’re dead,” The Phoenix Witch shrugged.

“I’m still-“ _cough_ “-not dying.”

“Stubborn one, aren’t you? Especially for someone who didn’t care if he lived or not just hours ago.” She tapped him on the forehead. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Cherri Cola. You don’t want to die. You want to not be in pain any longer. And to you, those seem like the same thing. But this isn’t the only route out of your grief, and it’s certainly not a painless one for the people around you. They care, you know.”

“Really?”

“Of course they do. Dumbass. NewsAGoGo cried when she realized you were gone, and so did your beloved Dr. Death Defying. They’ll be hurt worse once they realize you really are dead.”

Guilt swirled in his stomach. “I’m not dead. And-“ _cough_ “-I’m not going to be.”

“Honey, you’re on death’s doorstep. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see me.” She seemed to take pity on him, kneeling next to him and brushing some of the sand away so he could speak better. “I’ll make you a deal, though, a one-time sort of offer. I won’t take you yet, and I’ll make sure you live, on one condition: you have to give me something.”

“What?”

“Anything. I want something that means something to you, though. A piece of your soul, as it were.”

It took him a moment, but “Would a bracelet do?”

“Only if it means something to you.”

“Newsie made it for me.”

She seemed to consider his offer for a moment before swiping the bracelet from his wrist. “Very well, Cherri Cola. Enjoy however many more years of life this will buy you.”

The last thing he saw was a swirl of crow feathers before the world went dark.

* * *

He woke up briefly who knew how long later to a redhead teen leaning over him, tilting their head. 

“Nah, I think he’s dead, Jet.”

“He looks pretty dead to me.”

“No, shh, Kobes, Party. I swear I saw him move.”

“Nah, he’s gotta be dead.”

“I swear! He was moving, and look, I think he’s breathing!”

Cherri did his best to move his head and hoped they caught on, but even that small movement sent a surge of dizziness through him, and he blacked out again before he could hear any more of the teenagers’ conversation.

* * *

When he woke up for the second time, he was lying on a somewhat uncomfortable bed in a room he had never seen before, and everything on his entire body hurt. There was an IV stabbed into his arm, and his forearms were neatly bandaged, which made him think this must be a hospital. It certainly wasn’t the radio station.

The person who poked his head into the room a few minutes later confirmed Cherri’s suspicions, as he was quite clearly a medic. “Oh, you’re awake!”

Cherri managed a tired nod as the medic came fully into the room.

“How are you feeling?”

“In a fair bit of pain, but I’ll live.”

“Hmm. Anything in particular, or no?”

Cherri shook his head, and the medic offered a grin. 

“You’re not going to be having a great time of it, sorry about that. Almost dying of heatstroke will do that to you. You’re pretty lucky your friends got you here in time. Oh, and I’m Max, by the way. Your name is?”

“Cherri Cola. My friends brought me in?”

“Well, I’m assuming they’re your friends, anyways. Redhead kid with a smirk like the devil, tall blond kid, and that guy with a really nice smile?”  
Cherri was reasonably certain he had never met those kids in his life. “No?”

“Huh. Well, anyways, I’ll send them in once I finish my checks, they might be able to explain more than I can.”

True to Max’s word, a few minutes later, a redhead with a smirk like the devil, a tall blond kid, and a brown-haired kid with a friendly smile walked in.

He felt like he should probably say hello or something, but the redhead spoke before he could. “So who the fuck are you, anyways?”

“That’s a good question. Haven’t quite worked out the answer to that one yet, but my name is Cherri Cola if that’s what you’re asking. He/him.”

“Fucking fantastic. So we picked up a random stranger and waited at the hospital for him to wake up.”

The tallest one, the one with a friendly smile, sighed. “Sorry about Poison, they’re mad that the medics made us wait here because there would be no one else to visit you and pick you up when you were healed. I’m Jet Star, by the way. They/them or he/him.”

“Kobra Kid,” The blonde said. “He/him.”

“And I’m Party Poison,” declared the one who had demanded to know who Cherri was. “They/them.”

“Well, uh, nice to meet you. Thank you for taking me to the hospital, I suppose.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, not even us would leave some guy lying there.”

“We almost did, but that’s because we thought you were dead,” Kobra Kid chimed in. He bore a distinct resemblance to Party Poison, both in face and voice, and Cherri was starting to wonder if they were related.

He shook that thought off, trying to focus on what was most important right now. “How long until I can leave the hospital?”

Jet Star was the one to answer that. “Probably another two days or so, you were in pretty bad shape from what I hear.”

“And you’re going to have some badass scars, apparently,” Kobra Kid agreed.

“And do my friends know I’m here?”

Party Poison snorted. “How should we know? We don’t even know who your friends are.”

“D and Newsie- sorry, Dr. Death Defying and NewsAGoGo?”

“Radio DJs, right? We know of them, but we’ve got no real way to contact them,” Party Poison told him.

“We can drive you where you need to go, though, once they release you,” Jet Star offered kindly. 

“That would be great, thank you guys so much.” 

* * *

So two days later, Cherri Cola was being bustled into the back of an old trans am by three teenagers. Party Poison was driving, and Kobra Kid had claimed shotgun, leaving Jet Star to sit in the back with Cherri. He didn’t mind that, as they seemed the most friendly. He even found himself chatting a bit with them as the siblings (turned out they were, in fact, related) laughed and debated in the front.

“So how long have you been out here?” Cherri asked. That tended to be a fairly safe question- killjoys didn’t talk about their past in Battery City, typically, but how long someone had been out in the Zones was a much safer topic.

“Maybe…fifteen years? I was born out here,” Jet Star explained. “So I don’t quite know, but I think I’m fifteen or sixteen.”

“Ah.” He felt rather old, suddenly. “I’ve been out here since soon after the Helium Wars ended.”

“Wow,” Jet breathed. “You must have seen a lot.”

Cherri stared at the scars on his hands. “Yeah.”

Jet’s hands were nearly equally scarred, although not the same wavehead scars, as they reached out a hand in understanding. “The Zones aren’t always kind.”

He offered them a wane smile. “No, they’re not.”

That was the end of their conversation, as at that moment, the car screeched to a stop in front of the radio station. 

Party Poison hopped out of the drivers seat and knocked loudly on the door as the rest followed behind.

Said door was opened by Show Pony, looking mildly frazzled. “Hey, sugar! Whatcha need?”

“I think we’ve got your friend.”

Ey looked puzzled for a second, and then eir gaze fell on Cherri, standing behind Party Poison with Jet and Kobra Kid. “Cola! Holy- Destroya, Cola!” Ey pushed past the red-haired teen with ease, skating down to throw eir arms around him. “We thought you’d gotten yourself dusted!”

“Not dusted, I’m afraid,” Cherri mumbled.

“Well, good!” Ey turned to holler back into the radio station. “Newsie! Dr. D! Get out here!”

Newsie’s hurried footsteps echoed from within the radio station, and Cherri’s words stuck in his throat as she froze in the doorway. 

“Hey,” He managed.

“Cherri FUCKING Cola, you complete and utter BASTARD!” 

He winced as Newise hugged him tightly, still swearing at him. “You fucker, you little dipshit, you absolute dumbass, we thought you were dead! We thought you were fucking dead, fuckwad!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie.”

“You better fucking be! Rat bastard!”

That was when Dr. Death Defying arrived, with a lot less swearing and fierce hugging, but certainly some scolding. “You scared all of us half to death, Cherri.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“He was half to death too, but of heatstroke, not of fright,” Kobra Kid contributed (very unhelpfully, in Cherri’s opinion).

“That doesn’t make me feel any fucking better,” Newsie muttered.

“Also, infection and dehydration,” Party Poison added.

Cherri sighed. “Not helping, guys.”

“Who are these fine ‘joys?” Pony asked.

“The Terrific Trio!” Jet cheered. “Well, the name is a work in progress. I’m Jet Star. He/him and they/them.”

“Party Poison. They/them. And I’m in charge.”

Kobra Kid snorted. “Kobra Kid. He/him.”

“They saved my life,” Cherri chimed in.

D offered the three young killjoys a warm smile. “Well, we’re very glad you did. I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him.”

“NewsAGoGo, she/they.”

“An’ I’m Show Pony. Ey/em.”

Eventually, they all headed inside the radio station, where the trio was given some power pup for their trouble, and Cherri was given a lot of lectures and hugging for his. He would have a lot of explaining to do later, he knew, but he preferred to wait as long as possible to see the worry and fear on his friend’s faces. So just for tonight, he was going to revel in the fact that he was alive and here with his friends. That was the most important thing.

Cherri glanced down at his wrist, which felt strangely empty despite the bandages covering it, and smiled quietly to himself. “Hey, Newsie, what do you think about making another bracelet?”

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't I stop putting Cherri Cola in the hospital? Who knows. Not me, that's for sure.
> 
> Max is another of my oc medic crew (I've got a bunch) and so fucking gay. Literally incredibly gay. Also, this takes place before Fun Ghoul comes to the desert, since xe came to the desert after the rest of the crew. Which is why xe's not there (sadly). Also Cherri Cola and NewsAGoGo have a sibling dynamic because fuck you.
> 
> If you want to scream at me about this I feel that's entirely justified, my tumblr is @always-and-forever-a-killjoy if you prefer that to AO3.


End file.
